Fears
by trufflemores
Summary: Kurt is terrified of needles. Thankfully when he has to face his fear and get his chicken pox vaccine renewed, he's not alone. Takes place during the six months that Kurt and Blaine have the loft in New York to themselves. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Even though Kurt and Blaine were finally getting used to a life on their own without friends to distract them after six weeks, there were still challenges to living together.

Kurt had been having a stressful week with work, and while Blaine had gotten better at picking up on the subtle shifts in Kurt's mood before his patience reached the point of anger, there was something about Wednesday morning that struck him as particularly ominous as he padded quietly into the kitchen and found Kurt already in the kitchen.

He was half-awake, hair tussled and dark shadows still faintly visible under his eyes. Across the room, Blaine could still see the papers that he had been sorting through the night before littered across the coffee table in the living room, cast into vague indiscriminate piles across the couch. That wasn't what caught Blaine's attention, though, even though it added to his trepidation as he looked back at Kurt.

It was the rigid way that Kurt was gripping the edge of his night robe as he watched his coffee warm up. Blaine knew without asking that something was wrong, pursing his lips as he studied the dark frown creased between Kurt's brows.

Approaching cautiously – aware that Kurt was barbed and prickly on a good day before his first coffee and lethal on his worst – Blaine asked, "Kurt? Is everything okay?" He didn't dare wrap his arms around Kurt's waist like he wanted to, nestle his cheek against Kurt's sleep-warm shoulder and rub. The temptation was still there, but Kurt rarely welcomed uninvited touches when he was in a particularly foul mood, and Blaine had learned through trial and error when to push and when to step away.

Even if he hadn't picked up on the more subtle nuances of Kurt's emotions, Blaine couldn't have missed the implication behind the clipped way that Kurt said, "I have a doctor's appointment this Friday."

"Oh?" Blaine tried to conceal his bafflement to no avail; it wasn't like Kurt to exaggerate, and given his posture the procedure must have been dire. "Routine checkup?" he asked when no further explanation seemed forthcoming, wanting to know what was wrong but unwilling to set Kurt's temper off for the sake of his own curiosity.

Kurt's nostrils flared and for a brief moment Blaine thought that it was too late, that he was about to be on the receiving end of a truly terrible tirade that doubtless had nothing to do with him but everything to do with his presence near the hurricane that was Kurt's wrath when he hunched inward instead, collapsing on himself with a soft, thin noise of almost-pain.

"I'm due for my chicken pox renewal," was all he said.

Blaine inched closer, cautiously optimistic that the worst of the storm had passed, relaxing a little when he was able to curl his arms around Kurt's waist and hug him from behind without being shrugged off. He loved Kurt, he really did, and he knew that he could be equal parts fun and uncooperative when he was drunk, so he didn't hold his bad days against him. It was never about Blaine: Blaine's socks outside the laundry basket, occasionally, or Blaine's inability to organize the spice cabinet, perhaps, but more often it was about Kurt's coworkers or their friends or even just the loneliness and longing and hunger that had nothing to do with food that consumed them both at times, a need for sleep or sex or touch, depending on what day it was and how long they'd been apart.

Rubbing his cheek against Kurt's shoulder like he wanted to, Blaine waited for him to speak, at last offering, "You . . . don't like needles?"

Kurt shuddered once, a single full-body shiver that almost dislodged Blaine from his hold as he said, "_Don't._"

"You don't like shots," Blaine tried, aiming for diplomatic.

"Bedroom," Kurt ordered.

"I'll go with you," Blaine offered, detaching himself reluctantly. "It'll be –"

"Bedroom."

Five minutes later, Kurt nudged the curtain to the bedroom open. Blaine had already made the bed, sitting cross-legged against the covers with a book in hands, glancing up when he heard Kurt enter. Smiling at the sight of a somewhat forlorn-looking Kurt bearing a tray of toast and coffee, Blaine reached out to take it from him so Kurt could slide up onto the bed beside him.

Wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist, Kurt rested his cheek on his shoulder, as closely snuggled as he could be with the tray on Blaine's lap. Pleased that Kurt wanted to be close at all, Blaine tilted his head to kiss his cheek once before offering him a bite of toast, taking a bite of his own cinnamon-dusted one a moment later.

Kurt's anxiety seemed to melt as time passed and the toast and coffee gradually disappeared, eyes closing once the last bit was gone.

Blaine didn't move at first, aware that any wrong movement could shift the mood entirely between them. It wasn't until he heard the first soft snore before he carefully eased the tray onto the nightstand to avoid accidentally spilling any crumbs on the covers. Relaxing back against the headboard once he was finished, he picked up his book, finding the page where he left off and continuing to read, humming softly as he did so.

There were some mornings that just got off to a bad start, a combination of stress and late nights and deadlines making everything a little more sharp-edged and unpleasant, but other mornings were perfect just as they came, imperfectly so, and Blaine was positive that this was one of them.

. o .

Friday morning heralded a different Kurt, a quiet Kurt that didn't speak aside from the occasional grunt or head-shake.

Even coffee seemed ineffectual, only sharpening the edges of Kurt's increasingly dark mood.

"Let's just get this over with," he said at last, setting his half-full cup of coffee down and padding off to get his boots. Blaine, already dressed and primed for the day, was quick to follow, letting Kurt take the lead to the subway.

Once the doors had shut behind them, Kurt looped an arm through Blaine's, a firm, almost comforting hold as the subway took off. Even once they arrived and got off the car, however, Kurt kept their arms intertwined, cutting a clean path through the crowd to their next one.

By the time they reached the clinic, Kurt's hold had almost reached the point of cutting off circulation in Blaine's fingers.

Thankfully for Blaine's hand, Kurt released him as soon as they reached the counter. Speaking primarily in monosyllables, Kurt signed in with the receptionist, taking the clipboard from her once the money was taken care of and sinking into one of the chairs in the waiting area, hunched and folded, while Blaine took the seat next to him.

"I'll buy you a cheesecake once it's over," Blaine said.

Kurt grunted in reply, filling out the form as quickly as he could without scribbling any of the names past the point of recognition and turning it in before sinking into his chair again. "If I survive, then we're definitely getting cheesecake," he said, reaching over to intertwine their fingers.

Blaine hummed as they waited, rubbing his thumb over Kurt's clammy knuckles soothingly.

"What are the chances that I'll actually get chicken pox, anyway?" Kurt demanded after almost five minutes of waiting, foot tap-tap-tapping against the floor.

"Kurt."

"I'm healthy, I avoid sick people; I don't _need _a chicken pox renewal."

"Kurt."

"This is ridiculous," Kurt sighed, squeezing Blaine's hand. "We should just cancel the appointment and get another coffee. I _need _my coffee, Blaine."

"We'll get coffee afterward," Blaine promised.

Kurt groaned and dropped his head against Blaine's shoulder, not lifting it when a nurse called out, "Kurt Hummel?"

"I'm not here," he told Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine lifted a hand to indicate that Kurt was, in fact, there when the nurse's gaze flitted over the room, tugging gently at Kurt's shoulders. "Come on," he insisted. "I'll give you a foot rub. I'll give you a foot rub _and _a back rub," he bargained in his cheeriest sing-song voice, feeling victorious when Kurt groaned and hauled himself to his feet.

The first portion of the visit was all routine paperwork, confirming weight and height and taking down things like blood pressure and temperature. Kurt's shoulders never sagged, head high and voice calm and cooperative for all of it – until the doctor arrived, at which point he hunched inward, hugging himself tightly.

Seemingly oblivious to Kurt's distress, the doctor smiled at both of them as he entered the room, door falling shut behind him. "Hello, I'm Dr. Roberts." The doctor extended a hand for both of them to shake, Blaine taking and giving it a single firm shake while Kurt breathed in slowly through his nose before doing the same.

As expected, the doctor reviewed the same basic health concerns that the nurse had already gone over, brisk but efficient as Blaine sat on the cramped gurney beside Kurt, one arm wrapped around Kurt's back as rubbed slow circles against Kurt's hip. Even the gentle repetitiveness of the motion couldn't calm Kurt as the doctor bid them farewell, assuring that the nurse would be in shortly to administer the shot.

There was no more pleading or bargaining – Kurt seemed resigned to his fate – and Blaine didn't know which was worse as he sat in silence, rubbing Kurt's hip and pressing gentle kisses along his shoulder. When the nurse returned, Kurt stiffened, his entire body going rigid as he kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Already quickening, Kurt's breath tapered off in a whine as the nurse prepped her materials on the counter. "You're okay," Blaine promised, pressed against his side and refusing to move. "I'm right here, it's okay." He scooted closer when Kurt shivered, tensing even more at the first swipe of an alcoholic patch as the nurse talked them through the process, her voice lost to Blaine's ears over the overriding command of _Kurt, Kurt, Kurt._

The shot itself was quick, but Blaine still felt his heart ache when Kurt's hand crushed down on his, another thin whine slipping past his lips as he blurted out, "Oh god oh god oh god."

Blaine felt Kurt's flinch as the nurse pressed a cotton ball over the area, applying a bandage after a long minute as Blaine stroked Kurt's trembling side.

"You're okay," he promised, his voice still sing-song as he added, "it's over, we'll get coffee and cheesecake and go home and I'll give you a foot rub, it's okay."

Kurt didn't respond, just sagging against Blaine as he shivered, hands cold as Blaine cradled them. "I've got you, it's okay," he insisted. "Let's go home, okay?"

Somehow he got Kurt on his feet and signed out, one arm anchored around his waist for support as Kurt followed numbly in his footsteps. They made it back to the loft in record time, Blaine opting out of waiting in line for coffee and cheesecake as Kurt trailed wordlessly after him.

"We're here," he said at last, unnecessarily, as he slid the door shut behind him.

Kurt latched onto his waist and nudged him over to lie down on the couch, hugging him tightly as Blaine shuffled around to a more comfortable position.

"Kurt?" he tried, earning another grunt and a tighter squeeze, almost a reprimand.

Deciding that maybe Kurt just needed this, Blaine let himself be held, running a hand down Kurt's back soothingly until he felt some of the tension seep out of him.

"I'm never doing that again," Kurt said at last, sounding almost like himself again as he pressed his cheek against Blaine's chest.

"Did you still want cheesecake?" Blaine asked gently, opting out of explaining that Kurt would have to, eventually, get other shots. Better not to test his luck.

"God, yes," Kurt agreed, his groan sounding distinctly more pleased as he curled up closer and nuzzled Blaine's chest, making no effort to let go of him.

Even wriggling to make his point wasn't enough to persuade Kurt to move, so Blaine gave it one last attempt as he asked, "Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"I have to get up to get the cheesecake."

A thoughtful pause, and then: "Hm."

"You have to let get of me so I can get the cheesecake," Blaine reminded.

"Mmhmm."

Sighing, Blaine conceded, "You're not going to get up, are you?"

"Mmm."

Pressing a kiss to top of Kurt's head, Blaine snuggled down closer, perfectly content to be held.

He could always get the cheesecake later. But this, Kurt's affection, fleeting at times and abundant though it always was, was too good to miss.

"I love you," he said, overwhelmed with affection for having the privilege to spend time with Kurt, especially times like _this._

He didn't need to say anything to convey the depth of the emotions that he felt, though, because he knew that Kurt understood that same affection.

"Love you, too," was all he said, and, as always, it was enough.


End file.
